


Reciprocity

by twisteddixon (thepecolns)



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Set between Season 2 and 3, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:22:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29960874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepecolns/pseuds/twisteddixon
Summary: Carol’s need for it was obvious, but Daryl’s was far more subtle, and it comforted her in the only way something like this could. He needed this goodbye, too.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Carol Peletier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	Reciprocity

She never intended to eavesdrop.

All she wanted was to establish who was on watch.

Sometimes, when the cold would wake her, or the emptiness of her arms was strong enough to reach her dreams, the familiar voices of those watching over her, keeping the group safe, would help calm her back to sleep.

Carol did it for that very reason.

It was the one-sided conversation that made her listen in; albeit she'd soon worked out who was sitting beside T-Dog as he aimlessly listed things he missed from the old world. That particular form of silence was familiar, and Carol smiled at the thought of what might have led T-Dog to start such a conversation in the first place.

Daryl rarely offered details of his past, even at the best of times.

Still, she listened, taking in the things the young man missed and found herself realising she would not have much to reply with, either. The luxuries T-Dog spoke of were the kind of things Ed kept for himself.

Sophia was her only luxury. The one thing she would trade absolutely everything for.

“Me, too.”

Blinking into focus, Carol tried to recall what T-Dog mentioned to elicit an agreement, all the while trying not to pair his response with her thoughts of Sophia.

“I didn’t realise you were a smoker.”

Smoking. He missed smoking.

“I should’ve looked for packs on that highway,” T-Dog went on as Daryl returned to his trademark silence. He had offered as much as he was going to. “Must have been loads of them out there.”

There was, she thought idly, because she had done the very same herself. Ed’s withdrawals ended in a fresh bruise; she’d learnt that the hard way. It was always wise having an extra pack to hand. By the time he died, she had racked up quite a collection. Old habits had her collecting them even after he was gone, assuming that eventually someone else would need them…

…and now they did.

Except they were in her bag, and her bag was abandoned along with everything else on Hershel’s farm.

♦♦♦

“I think we should go back to the farm.”

All eyes turned in her direction, creating a wall of both shock and hesitation. She knew it was coming – expected it, even, having spent all night preparing her argument should they need convincing. Right now, however it wasn’t the group she had to convince. It was Rick, and his hardened gaze was already boring into her.

Any other day it might have deterred her.

“We need the supplies,” she continued, because it was true. There was no denying the need for them, with winter fast approaching.

“I don’t know if I want to risk going back there.” Carol’s gaze flickered towards the only mother left in the group. “What if the herds still there?”

She anticipated Lori’s disapproval, considering how close she’d come to losing her family that night. Yet she still felt the burn of irritation at her closest friend knocking back the only real suggestion she’d made since joining the group.

“And what if they’re not?”

“We could at least try.” Beth, this time, who offered a quick smile in Carol’s direction. She returned the gesture, grateful for the support, despite knowing how little it would amount to in the end.

If anyone, Hershel needed to speak up. The old farmer held sway, had the power to change Rick’s mind even now. It was like a weight in her stomach when it became clear that regardless of whatever influence he had, Hershel wasn’t going to assist Rick with the decision.

After the man’s crazed declaration of leadership, she couldn’t imagine anyone would.

“What difference would it make?” she went on. The initial seed of thought had grown since last night. She was desperate now…because the more she thought about what they could gain, the more she thought about what they’d left behind, and it wasn’t just the trivial things like cigarettes that had sparked the original idea.

It was food, clothes, gas…pictures. Sophia’s picture. Sophia’s clothes. The Cherokee rose Daryl gave her.

“Either we risk going to the farm or we risk going somewhere that might not even have what we need.”

The weight grew heavier and heavier as she looked around the group, noticing the diverted gazes and apologetic glances. Of all the reactions, she had not expected silence of this magnitude.

Rick’s words were still ringing in all their ears.

“Carol’s right.”

Her heart leapt, pounding as though a walker had just stumbled into view…except where fear usually followed, she felt a rush of something she hadn’t experienced in a very long time. Something that would cause Daryl to retract his statement should she ever admit it.

Even now, he refused to look at her. Not even to acknowledge the fact he was on her side.

“That herd ain’t gonna stop. Hell, they’re probably on our heels right now. What’s stoppin’ a group like Randall’s from takin’ what’s ours?”

The whole group collectively held their breath as they waited for Rick’s reaction. Carol was too preoccupied with the fact he’d said ours to fully acknowledge she’d been wrong to say Hershel was the one who could change Rick’s mind. While he had the power, Daryl could provide the best argument because he was the one out there on the front line every single time.

He was Rick’s right hand in all the ways Shane wasn’t.

Finally, Rick nodded, forgoing his customary glance in Lori’s direction. “We do this as a group. Daryl can scout ahead on the bike. If it’s clear, we get in and out as quickly as we can. Do you understand?”

Once everyone gave his or her consent, Carol knew it was final. “Good. We go in fifteen minutes. Leave nothing behind.”

♦♦♦

The camp was quieter than usual as they packed up to move on again. With the thought of going back to the place so many lost their lives, the promise of supplies was suddenly less rewarding. However, Carol did not regret her decision. She was pleased with herself; the elation of Daryl backing her up was keeping the other side from bringing her down. It was only as they started getting into their vehicles that it dawned on her.

She no longer had a guaranteed seat.

The Grimes family took the truck, the Greenes and Glenn filled Shane’s car, and T-Dog took the blue pick up – the passenger side already taken by what little was left of their ammo.

Carol was breathless as the harsh truth once again hit. Without Sophia, she was no longer part of a family unit and she didn’t fit in with those left. The realisation had her frozen to the spot.

“Come on, I ain’t got all day!”

Daryl’s barked command jolted her, this time not eliciting the same relief at hearing his voice and the achingly familiar phrase. He’d said the same thing when he saved her from the very place they were going back to.

She forced herself forward a step, heading towards T-Dog’s truck, hoping it wouldn’t take too long to make space. The only other seat was with Rick, and after everything, she simply couldn’t bring herself to do it.

All that left was T-Dog. It was only as she took another determined step that she thought to look in Daryl’s direction, to acknowledge him, even if he wouldn’t. It froze her once again when she did.

He was waiting for her.

“You gettin’ on or what?”

Her legs brought them together before her mind could fully process his offer. She was already smiling when it did. Daryl ducked his head, avoiding her smile and the gaze she was trying to catch.

Then came the gruff, “Come on,” and her smile turned private as she slid onto the bike behind him.

The uneasiness in her chest lifted in an instant. It shouldn’t have been that simple, she thought, yet she somehow found her seat with the only person who didn’t really have one.

“You best hold on,” he directed over his shoulder, and barely waited for her hands to grasp his side before the bike roared to life beneath them. As they started to move, the sudden lurch forward forced her hands further round his waist, and she was glad for it…glad too that her precariously low grip hadn’t caused him to swerve and crash the bike.

She kept her face tucked in against the curve of his back for most of the ride. It felt even longer than she remembered it to be, but finally she started recognising landmarks she knew to be near their old home.

Soon after, the travelling party came to a stop. Only Rick exited the car, walking towards them brusquely like a man on a mission.

"You know what to look out for," Rick said, directing the task to both of them. "If it doesn't look safe, then we go. Nothings worth risking more lives for."

They both nodded in agreement, understanding their task. Rick walked away and only then did Daryl speak.

"I need you to be my eyes out there," he said, half looking back at her. "If you see anything too close, or a cluster of them dead bastards, you tap my shoulder and point."

Carol agreed instantly. He needed her help for the first time ever, and she didn’t want to be scared by what they might find.

She wasn’t going to be a burden any longer.

Still, she held her breath as they started forward once again, only releasing it when they cleared the trees and went out into the open.

At first, it was as if nothing had changed.

The house stood solitary in the middle, appearing just as it always did. Only as they got closer did the signs of destruction make themselves known. The burnt remains of the barn sliding into view, the corpses materialising.

There was no denying the devastation in the light of day, yet even as Carol scanned the surroundings, watching Daryl do the same, the biggest shock was the lack of walkers. She hadn't known what to expect – had hoped for it to be clear but hadn't let those hopes rise too far.

The scattered patches of dried blood were the biggest indication, and her stomach turned at the unwanted thought of what happened to the poor souls they’d lost that night. The herd had left nothing behind; a twisted blessing now they were returning. Carol had seen too much evidence of what the walkers were capable of, and she knew how those memories sat on the heart.

Of course, there were a few stragglers. Two were lingering a little too close to the house on their sweep around the back. Daryl paused to take them out, advancing with precision as he'd done a hundred times before. He would be the one to teach her how to survive; she knew that already, but not today.

Today was about something else entirely.

"Let's get the others," was Daryl's only reaction.

Carol watched as each member of the group exited the cars five minutes later, their expressions echoing the shared memory of what happened. Rick repeated his orders of doing this as quickly as possible, and soon they got to work.

She followed them into the house, heading up the stairs and to the room on the right. Her bag was exactly where she left it, sitting next to the holdall of clean clothes her and Lori collected from the highway. Carol grabbed both, making her way downstairs and back outside, where she put the clothes into the closest trunk she could reach.

Only Lori remained on watch, the others still milling around inside the house. She hadn't seen Daryl go inside, but then she figured he was most likely keeping watch around the back of the house.

Even so, her heart was pounding as she peaked a quick glance to make sure Lori wasn't looking her way. Her bag was a reassuring weight against her side, reminding her why she was doing this in the first place.

She barely made it a few steps before she was caught. "Carol? Where are you going?"

"Just keep watch, someone needs to check the camp," she replied, not allowing herself to hesitate even when Lori's expression questioned why she felt the need to take that task on herself.

"Just keep watch," she repeated.

Carol didn't wait around for a response. The longer she left it, the more chance there was of someone coming out and stopping her altogether. She couldn't have that, not when she was so close.

She needed this. She really needed--

"Hey!"

Of course...

His voice halted her once again, stopping her in her tracks the way only Daryl could. She chanced a turn in his direction, the anger on his face making her stomach twist. She didn't flinch, however, when he stopped just a little too close. The way he always did when emotions ran high between them.

"The hell you think you're doin'?" he demanded. "You got a death wish?"

Despite the truth in his statement – she was taking a big risk – his lack of trust in her ability to survive definitely stung.

"There are things I need from my old tent," she said instead, swallowing the hurt. “I can't leave them here."

Carol watched as the anger faded a little from his face. It was as if he knew this was about Sophia.

He took a step back, biting his lip for a moment or two. "And if there's a walker? You gonna hit them with that damn bag of yours?

"You shoulda asked," he added, gentler this time. "You can't just wander off without any way of defendin' yourself."

Although he had not intended it that way, his comment still made her feel a little stupid. She’d spent the whole night going over her argument that she hadn’t given much thought to what would happen if they actually made it to the farm.

“Let’s go – but make it quick,” he said before she was able to utter an apology for her lack of judgment. “And take this.”

Carol eyed him warily as he removed one of the many knives from his belt, but didn’t allow herself to hesitate when he held it out. It felt heavy in her palm, and she tested the weight knowing it was something she would soon need to get used to if this was going to be her life for the long haul.

“Aim for the eye, but don’t push your wrist out when you do. A scratch off them dead bastards will kill ya just as easy as a bite.”

Trying not to show her fear, Carol offered a single nod. Seemingly satisfied with her response, Daryl started in the direction of their old camp. She held back while he did a quick sweep, testing the tent for any stragglers.

As he did, she had the sickening thought of a stray walker coming upon them, surprising Daryl while his back was turned. Would she be enough to stop it? To go so far as to save Daryl’s life the way he’d saved hers so many times over?

Of course not, her thoughts mocked, even with the ever-present weight of the blade in her hand. She already knew what would happen – the tensing of her muscles, the calling of his name, at best.

It was the fear of them. It paralysed her.

Carol wiped the traces of her inner reflection from her face before he could turn and catch her in the act.

He waited outside while they traded places. The pile she needed was exactly where she remembered it to be, having been almost afraid to take it into the house with her. They had been a tight fit inside the farmhouse as it was. There wasn't room for a dead girl's belongings, too.

Carol didn't take them all; as sad as it was to admit, she no longer had room for them, either. She chose only two items – Sophia's favourite t-shirt and the glass bottle Daryl had presented the Cherokee rose in. The flower itself had since been pressed between the sheets of a children's book now tucked in her bag.

She felt Daryl’s eyes on her as soon as she re-emerged. Almost as if he was looking for evidence of what she had retrieved, though she was certain he already knew – he’d no doubt scanned over her belongings during the sweep of the tent. She wondered if his heart skipped a little at the sight of Sophia's things, the way hers had...

"Got everythin'?"

Whether or not she intended it on purpose, Carol glanced towards her daughter’s final resting place. As much as she’d tried to reject it in the beginning, there was no denying the lure of it now. She longed to visit her graveside one last time and say goodbye…but she couldn’t. There was no way she could ask that of him, too. Daryl had given enough of his time to her as it was.

“I’m ready.”

And yet, Daryl did not move.

For a moment, neither of them said a word. Carol felt almost uncomfortable at the way he was staring; it was as though he was looking right into the heart of her.

“You wanna go down there,” he finally said. Not a question, but not quite a statement, either.

It was disconcerting how he could read her like a book.

"It's OK. We don't have time for that," she replied, in spite of her every atom wishing she could accept his offer. It pained her to think of her daughter in such a way; as though visiting her grave was something that required justification.

Even then, Daryl remained in place, and she watched the expression change on his face once again.

"No."

Despite being the one to say it, Carol's heart sank at the thought of him agreeing there was no time...and then, "They can wait."

She didn't risk questioning him, nor did she offer a glance towards the farmhouse to see who was watching them go. No one would doubt Daryl's decision anyhow, not the way they would've questioned her – the way they had questioned her, when she'd attempted the tents alone.

Instead, she hurried along after him, trying to match his longer strides.

Halfway across the clearing, something halted her. The sight of it made her stomach turn, but not in fear, the way it usually did when she saw a walker. This time, it was almost...pity. The walker was burnt beyond recognition, rasping and clawing its way towards them. It must have dragged itself from the barn.

"It ain't nothin' to fear," Daryl said, mistaking her pause as something else. "Can't hurt ya like that."

It probably could, if I let it.

Carol didn't admit that out loud. She wasn't suicidal; purposely letting a walker get her was something she could never agree with. Too many people had risked their lives to save hers, and that was something she couldn't ignore.

Besides, that wasn't the only reason she wanted to live.

"Is this what we're destined for? To become something like that?" Carol grimaced, watching the thing edge closer. "It doesn't stop...it just--"

Her words were cut short by Daryl's knife caving what was left of its skull. He looked almost angry as he wiped the blade and placed it back on his belt.

"That ain't gonna happen," he said bluntly, putting an end to the topic entirely. "Come on. Let's keep movin'."

Carol pushed the burnt walker from her mind, focusing on the graves that were coming into view. There were so many of them, and she wondered, as she often did, of the people who would come across the farm next. Whether they would pause over her daughter's grave, not knowing it held the body of a little girl who couldn't be saved.

Would they mourn her? She decided yes, in the distant way a stranger coming across a grave would, and that was enough for her.

She felt Daryl's gaze on her as she crouched down beside the cross and unzipped her bag. Until now, she hadn't thought of leaving the glass bottle he'd presented her rose in. Yet as she sat beside her daughter's grave, she felt she had to do something, to leave a token in her memory.

There was no hope for her daughter, but there was still hope for her and the rose signified that.

Carol was glad for the privacy of the moment. The others wouldn't understand her offering, and she wouldn't want them to. It would remain between her and Daryl.

His expression softened when she stood and glanced his way. The corner of his mouth flickered into a barely there smile that emanated with sadness, and it hurt all over again to remember that day by the creek. He'd smiled at her then, too, surprising her with his kindness.

Even now, he didn’t do as she expected him to. He didn’t stand behind her, just out of sight the way he did at Dale’s funeral. The way she supposed he did at Sophia’s. He remained beside her, shoulder to shoulder as they both looked down at her final resting place.

A sign that she wasn’t alone, the way she was before.

His head tilted to the side, and like a sixth sense, she felt his gaze flicker her way, watching for a moment and then away again, back to the grave. A part of her questioned why he brought her here, especially when the others required his attention elsewhere. The other part of her dismissed the question altogether because she knew the answer already.

Carol’s need for it was obvious, but Daryl’s was far more subtle, and it comforted her in the only way something like this could.

He needed this goodbye, too.

♦♦♦

The room was quiet. At least as quiet as a room full of people could be. Aside from the two keeping watch at each door, Carol was the only one among them still awake. She was tired, certainly, but for once she felt almost content to let her mind wander.

Today had been a win.

The supplies they gathered would keep them going for a while, the clothes providing extra warmth for the colder nights. The realisation of this boosted the group morale, to the point they had actually being smiling during dinner.

Finding the deserted, walker free house just off the road was the icing on the cake.

The new world made a pessimist of them all, and everyone knew their luck would eventually peter out. They knew this one good day could quite easily lead into a bad one tomorrow.

For that very reason, Carol wasn't ready to let the day end just yet. She pulled herself up, careful not to make too much noise. Working her way through the maze of sleeping bodies, she soon found herself in the dark hallway.

The door on her left would lead into the kitchen, and from there a further door that would take her to the front of the house. Behind which sat Rick, watching over them as he always did. While he hadn't treated her badly in any way since leaving the farm, Carol still felt the need to give him his space for now.

Besides, it wasn't the front door she needed.

To her right was the door leading into the backyard. Even in the dark, Carol could make out the angel wings pressed against the lower half of the frosted glass door.

She tapped twice on the glass to get his attention, waiting for him to sit up before opening the door. It was cool out, enough for her breath to mist the air. At least, that was the excuse she used when she sat beside him just a little closer than normal.

However, he did not move, so neither did she.

For a while, they sat in peace, and Carol found herself smiling. It reminded her of the night before, when T-Dog rambled on to fill the silence. She was glad she didn't feel the need to do the same.

Still, as the minutes trickled by, she began to feel the urge, not so much to talk, but to hear his voice.

"Will you teach me how to use this?" she said, surprising herself with not only her choice of topic, but how quickly she produced the blade. Like a nervous tick, she had found herself reaching for it for the rest of the day. It was strange how quickly she'd become accustomed to it being there.

"Did ya really think I was gonna leave you without knowing how to defend yourself?"

Carol feigned a shrug; if she was being honest, she didn't know what she expected. Or more precisely, she didn't know if Daryl was aware she wanted to learn. No doubt she wouldn't have much choice in the matter, given their current living arrangements.

What she wanted was for Daryl to know she was willing to learn, and not just because she was made to. She wanted to be able to save his life as much as he'd saved hers.

"Gotta make sure you know what ya doin'," he added, his expression hinting at a deeper meaning. She knew what he was trying to say – similar to his 'ain't gonna happen' remark from earlier that day – he was going to make sure she survived.

"You will," she replied simply, and while neither of them said anything more on the matter, she knew the right message was received. Shortly after Daryl announced he needed to 'take a leak' and disappeared around the side of the house.

Carol watched him go, smiling to herself in the dark. She cared for this man in a way she was yet to understand. She wasn't sure she ever would, but he was a reason to survive, and that was the only explanation she needed.

It was then she remembered the cigarette packet she'd carried in her pocket all afternoon. Finding the right time to give it to him had proved difficult, and keeping them hidden had been even harder. She felt bad for feeling the need to conceal them. She would offer some to T-Dog soon, but not before Daryl had received his first.

She pulled the packet out now, turning it over in her hands. It seemed almost trivial to think they were still capable of killing, when death was so prolific in its new way.

Still, Carol placed it in the space beside her and waited for his return. He spotted them instantly when he did, eyeing them curiously as though wondering how she knew.

"I heard you last night telling T-Dog you missed smoking," she explained. "I figured you'd get better use out of them than I would."

"They Ed's?" he asked after a moments deliberation. It surprised her that it mattered to him, whether they had once been her husband's. She thought she was alone in wanting nothing more to do with him.

She shook her head. "He never touched them. Didn't get the chance to. They would've been his eventually, I guess."

Daryl took it as a good enough reason to slip them into his pocket. "Thanks. I'll try not to smoke ‘em all at once."

"I have more in my bag," she said with a chuckle. "You can have them whenever you like."

"That damn bag of yours." He shook his head, amused. "That why you suggested we go back to the farm?"

"Among other reasons, but yes,” she admitted, strangely embarrassed at her confession. It seemed so silly when saying it out loud. “It's what made me think about going back. I’ve been meaning to thank you for backing me up this morning; I know Rick wouldn't have agreed otherwise."

Daryl shrugged his shoulders. "It was a good idea."

It warmed her to hear his praise. She couldn't explain how much she wanted to be of use to the group, to not be a burden any longer. Of course, she wasn't expecting to be a part of every big decision from then on, but it was a start, and his encouragement made her believe she could actually do it.

With his help, she really could.

"I also wanted to thank you for something else,” she continued softly.

“You ain’t gotta thank me for that,” he said before she could find the words. It didn’t surprise her that he knew; Daryl always seemed to know these days.

“I do,” she replied anyway. “I just want you to know I’m grateful for letting me say goodbye to her. It was a risk going down there. If anything had happened because you weren’t back at the house...”

The mere thought of it made the words catch in her throat. Everything had gone as planned; in fact, she was pretty certain Lori was the only one who knew where they went.

But still...that what if was hard to shake.

Daryl shook his head nonetheless. “Rick had it under control. He wouldn’t have let anything happen. ‘Sides...I wanted to go down there, too.”

He said the last part quietly, all the while keeping his gaze to the floor. She watched him nudge dirt with his boot – a shy gesture she recognised well. He was about as fluent at expressing his feelings as she was. 

“I know,” was all she could say.

He surprised her with a smile then, similar to the small upwards flicker he offered earlier. Their shared understanding warmed her, and she smiled back, contented they had managed to have this conversation. 

When he looked away, Carol turned her attention to the clear night sky and thought again, of the luck that brought Daryl Dixon into her life. She was glad to have him with her, at the end of life as they once knew.


End file.
